


Designated Driver

by ghostlingerie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drunken Flirting, First Kiss, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hana "D.Va" Song Is a Little Shit, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlingerie/pseuds/ghostlingerie
Summary: McCree and a tipsy Hanzo have to bring their friends home after a celebration in a bar.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Designated Driver

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you're reading this, thanks! I just felt like writing a cheesy indulgent one shot. This is the first fic I've ever published, please tell me what you think :)

“Here’s to half a year of Overwatch, and to many more! Cheers!” Reinhardt bellows as the beer he clutches in his right hand somewhat spills on the ground below him, having raised the glass. Shouts and cheers rumble throughout the underground bar. Laughter followed, many mumbling a song, others joining them. Some gathered in smaller groups, talking about the past and future, sharing personal anecdotes. 

The scent of alcohol wafts throughout the room, and it enters Hanzo’s nose. He leans an arm on the front bar rail and lifts a leg to let rest on another. The moment was something he’d keep treasured, for sure. It sure was better than most of his memories from two years ago. As he glances at the people in the room, a small smile grows on his face as he reflects on how much this organization has changed him for the better. They managed to have him and Genji reconnect with one another, they showed him a whole new side of life, and probably more he couldn’t list down. 

He tips the hand-sized glass towards his lips when he only feels a drop on his tongue, frowning. With just a move of his waist, he’s facing the bartender, who was cleaning a small shot glass, looking at nothing in particular. He opens his mouth when he hears a man begin to order. “A shot of gin for me and uh,” The man looks at him, still locking eye contact as he winks, continuing, “my friend Hanzo over ‘ere.”

Hanzo raises his eyebrows as the american gestures towards the empty chair next to him. Nodding, Hanzo hears two glasses slide perfectly in front of them and swiftly gets filled. “I’m quite curious on how you managed to guess exactly what drink I wanted to order,” he asks. “You’ve heard me talk about sake for each mission we’ve been on, McCree. Why’d you think I’d want gin?” McCree gives a charming, honeyed laugh that causes Hanzo to look back at the shots, having already been filled. As if that’d hide the slight shade of pink that crept it’s way unto the tips of his ears. 

“Well, for a start, you spent the ride here listenin to Hana and Ana talk about the dumb things they saw Morrison do, and left lookin’ like that plane ride lasted a month.” He tips the glass, seeing the reflection of Morrison complaining about the two girls to Winston, who attempts to slink away the bottle from Jack’s hands, looking quite concerned. “S’ alright, I’ve been through that. Anyway, on my way here, you finished a glass of bourbon lookin’ quite disappointed, as if you wanted somethin’ stronger. By the time I had arrived, I was confident ‘bout taking the risk to order that drink for ya, darlin.” 

Hanzo gave him a look of recognition, immediately downing the shot. He closes his eyes and slowly releases a breath. “When and how do you plan to drink yours? It’d be the only one you can have for the night, anyway.” It was now McCree’s time to be curious, merely leaning his head to the side. “Knowing your drinking habits, you’d usually ask for a whiskey, and a gin. Since you didn’t order that, you maybe would’ve ordered a couple of glasses. You didn't, which must mean,” he turns his chair towards him as his glass gets refilled, “You will be our driver tonight, gunslinger.” 

It was the cowboy’s turn to be impressed. He whistles low and taps the table. “Goddamn, took you two seconds for somethin’ that would’ve taken me ten minutes,” he drawls. Hanzo lifts his glass up, wondering if McCree would drink his glass now, since he’d offered. “Here’s to half a year, and a shot of gin.” The cowboy amusedly obliges, much to Hanzo’s delight, and toasts with him. 

Throughout the night, the two men continued to talk about a lot of subjects. Hanzo had also drank more shots, the more the conversation progressed, and McCree managed to hear and learn more things about the archer than he normally would. One would share about the time he had spent a week in the desert, praying that the motorcycle they were on wouldn’t give out to the heat, and the other would describe the things that went down in the commerce hotel, as he was sneaking through the halls for intel, gathering too much intel than he expected. 

By two, some people in the bar had left early, having something to do tomorrow, and the others scattered across the room, also having something to do tomorrow, but not being able to take themselves home. The only people left not asleep or on the floor were Hanzo and Jesse, continuing to recollect memories of missions together, and the silent bartender, who continued to clean glasses. At this point, Hanzo’s entire face was a constant soft shade of pink from the alcohol, also laughing and smiling more than usual.

“I can’t believe we pulled that shit off in King’s Row without Angela knowin, Hanners,” McCree said through choked words, having laughed too much that he accidentally began to start coughing near the end of the story. Hanzo couldn’t help but look at him, as he fiddled with the empty glass. The night here was amazing. McCree takes a glance at the wall, looking at a clock that was next to the blaring neon lights that spelled out “OPEN”. “It’s real late, two already, huh? Damn, that was fun, but I gotta bring you and…” Jesse takes a look around the room with the shorter man. “These highly responsible folk back to base. Mind helpin’ me? If you’re not drunk, that is.” McCree smirked. Hanzo, despite the small twinge of disappointment that the nice conversation at the front bar had ended, takes this as a friendly challenge. “Bold of you to assume I’m drunk, american. I can bring as many of our friends into the car as you can, darling.” If his eyes aren't deceiving him, Hanzo sees McCree’s own ears go red, as his eyes narrow and begin to swoop down to pick up the unconscious bodies from the floor. “Already ahead of ya,” he teases. Hanzo smiles and follows suit.

The car door slams shut as the two of them take several exasperated breaths next to the car, each having an arm leaning on the door or on the hood. “You managed,” Hanzo breathily quipped. “You weren’t too bad either,” Jesse responded. Hanzo looks into the car, seeing multiple passed out faces piled unto or put next to each other, some with their tongues out, others having a bit of saliva trail unto their jaw. Put off by that sight, Hanzo looks down, his foot shifting against the gravel. As his breath stabilizes, he slowly drags his eyes from the ground to Jesse’s irises. Hanzo’s heart begins to beat faster when he realizes that the eyes were looking back . He begins to stammer, thinking of an excuse. So does McCree, causing both of them to laugh once more. “You were good to be with, Jesse.” The gunslinger looks back up, looking pleasantly surprised. “Likewise, partner.” Hanzo found the silence that followed nice, him continuing to look at Jesse. He hears McCree’s foot tap on the ground, spurs jangling. It had to be criminal how great he looked with the breeze and the moonlight, with his light brown hair, and arms that he’d want holding him.

Once the crickets start reaching his ears, he reluctantly opens the car door next to him and takes a seat in the passenger’s seat, where muffled snores could now be heard. McCree follows after, stretching, putting his forearms on the steering wheel, extending them. “Are ya ready to go, honey?” he teases. Hanzo rolls his eyes, secretly repeating the nickname over and over in his mind. He fiddles with the seatbelt, never really pulling it down. Jesse starts the car and it emits a hiss, the lights turning on. 

For the first few minutes, it’s that familiar silence. McCree’s eyes were looking at the road ahead of him, looking content, and Hanzo’s were to the side, light appearing and disappearing on his face, as the lamps quickly passed by them. “That was one helluva night, if I do say so myself,” the driver said. Hanzo immediately released the breath. “Oh, yes. Did you see Genji? He went around the room asking people for bets and doing every single one of them. I can’t believe he’s a student of Zenyatta.” McCree gives a hearty laugh. “You shoulda seen him when he had just joined blackwatch. Guy literally talked to almost nobody except for the doc. Color palette was-” ''Red black and grey, I heard. He tries to remove that phase of his from people’s memories. As if I’d miss the opportunity.” Grins spread on both of their faces.

Hanzo could mostly act well, can still shoot an arrow as if he hadn’t taken half a dozen shots. Still, despite him being in a perfect physical state, the things he thought and what he said is not something he could control as well. “I wonder,” he murmurs, his lids lowering, “what compelled Overwatch to let me join them. Considering my past,” his voice lowers. The car slightly slows down, but still continues to go forward. Hanzo turns his head to look at Jesse, who continues to look forward. “Hanzo. You’ve done everything you can for a real long time to make up for the things you did. Your past has been settled, and yer with us.” The car stops perfectly, as Jesse turns the keys, the lights dimming down. They had arrived. He looks at Hanzo, and gives a comforting smile while the lights disappear. “Yer a good man, Hanners, if any of those conversations we’ve had tell me anythin.” McCree doesn’t see Hanzo’s face redden, having left the car, humming a tune.

“Mmh, I’ve got to save Emily from the… The ahm,” Tracer mumbling slurred words. “From the tower of big fondant, right, darlin?” McCree gives Hanzo an amused look, continuing to support a stumbling Lena. Hanzo follows close behind, having already taken his turn. He had brought a whimpering, complaining Mercy, talking about how people won’t stop asking for something that he couldn’t remember. He was too busy trying not to snicker from Jesse’s imitations of the doctor’s woes. 

The cowboy manages to get a grip of Tracer’s hand and lifts it, having it touch the door. Athena recognizes the handprint, and the door opens, hissing. Hanzo leans against the open door, crossing his arms, as he watches Jesse clumsily flop the half-conscious Overwatch agent unto her bed. He brushes his hands together, as if there’s grime on his hand. He huffs, Hanzo moving to the left so McCree could leave the room, as the door slides close behind them. “Jesus,” he said, chuckling. Both men make their way down the hallway, tired, but amused. “After having listened to her drunken adventure, and seeing you drag her to her room, you’d most likely need the assistance of any gods willing to listen.” 

They continue walking down the hallway, when they unanimously stop. Turning to look at one another, Hanzo takes a step back in order to lean on a closed door, which separates the hallway from his room. “Well uh,” McCree says, scratching behind his neck, “Out of all the drunkards I had to bring home, you were the easiest to guide.” Hanzo exaggeratedly gives him an expression of shock, as if he were taken aback from that comment. “Me? A drunkard? Please, McCree. However,” he says, relaxing, “your company was enjoyable.” Jesse takes a step forward, taking his hat in his mechanical hand, holding it to his chest. “It was my pleasure, darlin’.” 

Despite pretty much having said their versions of ‘goodbye’, Hanzo didn’t enter his room. Something kept his feet planted there, frame still leaning on the door. Curiously enough, McCree didn’t move either, his feet shuffling. “He’s got to be here for a reason, right?” Hanzo thinks. He wishes that the reason he came up with in his mind was the reason he stayed. He wants the cowboy to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and wished for the trip to his room to have been longer. His heart sank a bit, calling himself a fool for even considering that possibility. Still, they both begin to stumble with their words, choosing to coincidentally talk at the same time.

“Sorry, I just-”

“Hah, no, I’m-”

Their eyes meet again as they laugh softly. It’s like when they were next to the car, Hanzo thinks. It’s like on the car, but there wasn’t a car. It was like then, but they were closer, that he could just barely smell what little alcohol was left on McCree’s breath. It was like then, but his heart raced even faster. He couldn’t help but seriously consider that the things he’d wished for and considered impossible then was now possible. Then again, doubt lingers, him taking into account that he could be reading this situation completely incorrectly. That this had never happened, just another moment he wished would last forever. That he’d have to return to his room, in bitterness of what he’d lost, thinking of those cinnamon eyes. Even with these things in mind, though, Hanzo, still hopeful, takes a deep breath.

“Could I ask you something? Before you go, I mean.”

It took him half a second when he realized that the distance between him and Jesse disappeared, and that the other had taken the initiative and swung his arm around Hanzo’s waist, which connected them. Hanzo’s eyes widen as he realizes that their lips were swiftly linked, his own lips parting, allowing them to exchange their breaths, Hanzo taking in the rich taste of alcohol and smoke. If he’d thought he wasn’t blushing that much before, when McCree had complimented him, he really was now. The redness in his face was apparent as he closed his eyes. Hanzo feels himself melt, so he reaches his arms behind Jesse’s neck, embracing it. He had to raise his heels when Jesse softly held his other hand on his jaw, letting Hanzo envelop himself deeper into the kiss. 

The hand pushes back a bit, hitched breaths releasing from red lips. Once recovered, their mouths meet again, this kiss deeper and longer than the last. Hanzo’s heart continued to soar, all doubts he previously had being washed away. He felt the warmth from Jesse throughout his body, savoring every bit of it. Hanzo and McCree managed to kiss against the door, the shorter man contorting his hand in order for the door to abruptly slide open. McCree brings his head back, Hanzo’s bottom lip in between his teeth. “Are ya sure, darlin?” The man in question feels his lip get released. A gasp escapes his mouth, when he places a finger on Jesse’s lips, the other’s eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise. “You talk too much, gunslinger.” Replacing his finger with his lips, he stumbles backward, McCree following in equally clumsy steps. Hanzo loops a finger on the belt that hangs on Jesse’s waist, as the door behind them slides close, Athena dimming the lights throughout the hallways, chuckles only to be heard behind the door.

The morning chooses to introduce itself to Hanzo by hitting it’s rays on his eyes, and by giving him a headache. He groans, and turns, the arms around him shuffling to accommodate the turn. The view he gets is a hairy, toned chest. He buries his face into it, a warm hand weaving its way into his hair. “Mornin,” Jesse greets. Hanzo replies by mumbling, and planting a soft kiss on the chest. Everything felt relatively sore. His head hurt, his arms worn out from all the half-unconscious bodies they had carried the night before, and his ass, which felt as if he couldn’t walk for the next few days. He could, by all means, walk normally, but after being introduced to Jesse’s length, each step would feel like needles. Taking his hand, he slowly brings it to his shoulder. He traces his hand across the marks and bruises that lined his neck, all the way down. A sigh of contempt releases from his mouth.

“You alright, darlin?” Hanzo couldn’t do much but nod, and he heard and felt Jesse’s comforting laughter. The caressing he felt on his head was pretty pleasant to him as well. “So ahm,” Jesse asks, “What’re we gonna do with us?” “Well,” Hanzo replies, “I’d like this to continue. Not just this, but for us to mean more. Just…” he pauses, “just keep this between us. If we were to tell the others, they’d never leave us alone. ” A blush creeps it’s way onto Hanzo’s face. “I’d like that,” Jesse affirms. They stay on the bed for another hour, when McCree asks Athena to tell Winston that he and Agent Shimada won’t be available for the day. 

“Nice job, loves!” Tracer shouts, as she blinks throughout the meeting room of Volskaya Industries. The high ceiling allows her announcement to be echoed throughout the room. “Hear, hear! This mission went great, genósse!” Reinhardt shouts after. “We’ll be staying in one of the buildings for a few days, until the Orca has been properly fixed. Feel free to head to your rooms,” Mercy added. Hanzo sees his family celebrate again, like they had many times before. It’s been two months and a half after that important night, the night of celebration he liked the most out of all of them. Despite the environment being completely different, what with the snow laden landscape, he could imagine the clinking of glasses and the drunken singing of everyone.

Also, quick footsteps, apparently. He looks forward, snapping out of his recollection. Standing in front of him was a young woman, overall outfit quite bright. “Hello, D.Va,” Hanzo greets. “Hey! I saw how you did back there. Amazing stuff, Hanzo!” She beams and goes to the man’s right, leaning on the glass window behind her. “Especially on the crossroads? You and the cowboy took out everything there in ten seconds, like in those action movies. It’s as if you’re the perfect pair, man.” Hanzo merely scoffs, saying “Sure.” He looks at the man in question from across the room, seeing him smile. The comm next his ear, that was opposite to Hana buzzed to life. “Howdy, sugar. Heard they have some great desserts ‘round here. Behind the satellite in 20?” Hanzo nods, tapping his foot too, pretending to remember a song he made up, just to be sure nobody suspects anything. He says his goodbyes to D.Va, and leaves the lobby, heading towards his room, thinking of what locals here wore, and the night he hopes to enjoy with Jesse.

“Genji.” D.Va said, chewing gum. “Hana,” a voice in her ear replied. “Did he do the thing?” “Just like you said,” she replies. “I’m pretty sure we can properly catch them this time, they’re getting more sloppy.” Genji laughs. “Trust me, we will. I asked McCree if he was busy today, and he told me that he was going to be, claiming Ana had invited him to a game of poker. Liar.” D.Va rolls her eyes as she heads to her room. “Just put on a coat and I’ll meet you on the roof of the red dilapidated building. Also, I’m too lazy to get the binoculars.” She chuckles at the sigh she receives. “Fine. I made sure to subtly suggest to Anija that there wouldn’t be that many people who’d be out tonight. Now,” Genji says, a mischievous grin spreading on his face, “let’s see how well my brother flirts,” “And how well Jesse can constrain himself from flirting every second,” D.Va continues. Each of them head to their respective rooms, prepared to mess with the two men in the future, the grin being maintained on both of their faces.


End file.
